


long weeks need a weekend

by Sroloc_Elbisivni



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Angelo's speech patterns, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Multi, Second Citadel (Penumbra Podcast), Summer Camp Counselors, shameless fluff, what is an ensemble cast for if not shameless friendship banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23538037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sroloc_Elbisivni/pseuds/Sroloc_Elbisivni
Summary: The shenanigans of Camp Citadel's counselors on their evening off. Complaints, banter, attempts at romance, and Walmart runs.
Relationships: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast), Sir Angelo & Sir Damien (Penumbra Podcast), Sir Angelo/Sir Marc (Penumbra Podcast), Sir Caroline & Sir Angelo, Sir Caroline/Quanyii (Penumbra Podcast)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	long weeks need a weekend

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for the Seasons of the Citadel zine--thanks for the chance! I was assigned 'Summer,' which was for the whole cast or any combination thereof--I like big casts and the chaotic energy of these idiots is matched only by my coworkers last summer on a day off. Good times.

“Now?” Marc asked through a fixed smile, waving at the last car as it drove away.

“Not yet,” said Rilla, through a slightly more convincing, equally fixed smile.

Marc waited three seconds, and then asked, “Now?”

“Not _yet_ ,” Rilla growled.

Marc waited five seconds, and before he could say anything the car drove out of sight, Rilla smacked a hand over his mouth, and grabbed the walkie talkie off the table.

“Last child is officially off-property, last parents are out of earshot, we are _done_.”

There was a ragged cheer from the walkie, several tired voices overlapping at once. Marc could pick out Tal’s familiar groan even through the static, before it was cut off by Angelo’s cheerful “Another successful session, my friends!”

“Successful, huh?” Marc muttered to Rilla, as she started collecting the papers off the table.

“No one died,” Rilla pointed out. “And all the kids took their meds on time. So my week was successful.”

“I feel like ‘no one died’ being your lowest standard already puts us in the hole.”

Rilla huffed. “Whatever. Take these already so I can put the table away.”

Marc unbraked his chair before grabbing the file and setting it in his chair’s side pouch. He whistled Dampierre up from the ground before wheeling away from the table, because the Great Dane’s tail had an unfortunate habit of ending up too close to the rims to avoid.

“Meet you back at the staff house, Rills.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take the walkie!”

Marc made his way back down the gravel driveway to where the rest of the staff had already gathered to supervise the slowly dwindling population of campers. Dampierre trotted next to him, snorting and grumbling responses to Marc’s speculation about whether they could get Tal to make an ice cream run tonight. He broke off at the sight of a familiar tall figure going the opposite direction.

“Hey! Scales!” Marc waved at Arum, who didn’t look especially pleased to see him. “Where are you headed?”

Arum scowled but came to a stop, crossing his arms. “Must you persist with that nonsensical nickname?”

“Mmmmm...yeah. Besides, you’ve still got glitter on your face.”

Arum’s hand immediately flew to his face, only to slowly lower when Marc started snickering. That never got old.

Arum pulled himself straight up, clearly trying to preserve what was left of his dignity. “I was going to see if Amaryllis desired any assistance cleaning up.”

“Nah, she’s got it under control, you can head back with me.”

“I shall check with her anyways.” He took off again, using his unfairly long legs to get out of earshot before Marc could bug him more.

“Now what was all that about?” Marc asked Dampierre, who had relaxed out of the tensed-up position Arum always brought out in him. Dampierre huffed and kept walking.

“Wha—I _don’t_ know, or I wouldn’t be asking! You don’t have to be so touchy.”

* * *

Damien had been lying prone across the picnic table ever since he got back from escorting Porkus and Trotter back to their parents. Angelo poked him, curiously, and when this only elicited a groan, decided to resort to advanced tactics.

“Friend Damien! Are you quite all right?”

“No, Angelo. I am drained. Wizened. That pair of troublemakers has made me old before my time.”

“Ah.” Angelo looked up at Caroline, who was sitting on the porch of the barracks with Quanyii draped across her legs. Quanyii was earnestly watching the show. Caroline looked rather like she was suffering from indigestion, which Angelo translated from long experience as “slight guilt.” Talfryn, from where he was peering up out of his tree-slung hammock, looked _very_ guilty.

“Well, my friend and best rival, no one can say you have not done heroic duty this week! You are the only person who managed to keep the Scrofas under control.”

Damien moaned. “Oh, don’t speak their names! I will go to my death with their shrill voices haunting me.”

Angelo patted him on the forehead. “I’m sure that day will not come anytime soon.”

“No, no—it approaches swiftly—I see it—“ Damien raised one shaking hand dramatically. “Tell Rilla and Ar—“ Damien cut himself off abruptly, eyes flying open. “That is—are—! Ah!” He scrambled to a sitting up position. “Director Helicoid! There you are!”

“Damien.” There was a great deal of disapproval in the co-director’s voice. “I trust there are no….unaddressed difficulties from this week?”

“No, everything is fine!” Except for Damien’s laugh which was a little manic. “I was—we were just—“

“We were practicing a play!” Angelo announced. He swung an arm over Damien’s shoulder. “Damien thought dramatic poetry might be a fun activity to introduce next week."

“Hr-hm.” Helicoid let out a truly phlegmy grumble. “Well, I trust you will see to it that _future_ planning does not interfere with your _current_ duties!”

Before Angelo could make any kind of attempt at a more spirited defense of his best friend and rival, the golf cart rattled up with Director Mira and Phoebe inside at the same time Marc and Dampierre appeared from around the bend in the road. The final staff meeting of the week got underway with the kind of promptness that meant everyone just wanted to go take a five hour nap or eat their weight in fast food.

* * *

Mira, who Damien liked much better as a director even if she mainly dealt with the girl’s side of camp, ran a quick and efficient meeting, even with a toddler on her hip. Phoebe was, fortunately, not on the edge of a tantrum—just very tired, and burying her face in Mira’s headscarf with all the conviction a two-year-old could muster that people she couldn’t see didn’t exist.

Despite Director Helicoid’s occasional interjections and rambling tangents for him to enjoy the sound of his own voice, the meeting went by quickly. Congratulations on the week, preparations for next week, the payroll sheet passed around for signatures, and Rilla and Arum were still nowhere to be seen.

 _Tranquility_ , Damien reminded himself, emphatically _not_ thinking about how they had gotten an alert from the police earlier that week that a mountain lion had been spotted in the area. Surely, even if a mountain lion _did_ come after them, Rilla could shout loud enough to alert them here. If Arum didn’t manage to fight it off with the knives he had a bad habit of stealing from the woodyard.

As soon as Mira had enjoined them all to not make bad choices, the group of counselors immediately scattered—some to shower, some to leave for the weekend, some off into the woods. Damien hauled himself off the picnic table and started for the road, only to jump when Angelo’s hand came down on his shoulder. 

“Damien, my best friend and rival! Marc has convinced Friend Talfryn to make a Walmart run. Would you care to accompany us?”

“Oh, no, I was…” Damien was distracted enough looking for Arum and Rilla that it took him a moment to notice what was strange with what Angelo had said. “Are you angry at Marc?”

Angelo gave a nervous laugh. “What? Of course not! Why would I be angry at Marc?”

Damien stopped looking for his missing lovers long enough to give Angelo a long look. The big man looked…sheepish.

“Well, usually you call him your friend. Quite a lot, in fact.”

“That is true.”

Damien waited for a moment. When no further answers were forthcoming, he shook his head and clapped Marc on the back. “I’ll decline this time. But I would be in your debt if you would obtain some Doritos for me.”

“Doritos you shall have,” Angelo vowed, and Damien waved goodbye before jogging off towards the front of camp.

* * *

“Caroline! My good friend and incidental superior!”

Caroline paused where she was loading a bag of punching pads into her car, looking suspicious. Quanyii was nowhere to be seen, so she couldn’t be ready to leave just yet. Excellent. “Angelo.”

“I need your help.”

She huffed. “If this is about your scheme to befriend that fox in the back woods—”

“No, no! Of course not,” Angelo assured her. “Damien and I have realized that may have been a folly on our part.”

“ _May_ have—”

“I require romantic assistance.”

“Oh, sweet saints,” she groaned, resting her head against the top of her car for a moment. He heard her breathe very deeply, like she was counting down in her head, before she raised it again. “I told you that I was never going to discuss my relationship with you, Angelo. And I meant it.”

Angelo gave her his most sincere look. “And I would never ask you to! I merely seek…advice.”

“Advice.”

“Yes, that is what I said.”

“Angelo, you don’t _have_ a romantic relationship.”

“Well.” Angelo coughed, and shuffled his feet. “Not yet.”

“Ooh!” The coo of delight was all the warning Angelo had before Quanyii leaped on to his back. He automatically raised his arms to catch her in a piggy-back carry. “Aw, is my favorite hunk of man-meat bestirred by…. _flutters_ of the _heart?_ ”

“If the Directors catch you with those awful romance novels where the campers can see you, you’re going to be in trouble,” Caroline warned, closing her door. “And I would thank you never to refer to _anyone_ as a ‘ _hunk of man-meat_ ’ in my hearing ever again, but particularly our mutual friends.”

“You never let me have any fun,” Quanyii pouted, giving Angelo a pat on the cheek from behind before climbing down. “Sooooo, my sweet boy, who’s the apple of your eye?”

“Ah.” Angelo coughed. “I have not confessed my affections yet. It would be terribly rude to speak of it to you. Why, I haven’t even—”

“It’s Marc,” Caroline said, flatly, from where she had moved on to checking her trunk.

Angelo covered his face. “Clearly I can hide nothing.”

“You have a card sticking out of your back pocket with _Marc_ written on the envelope,” Caroline pointed out, flatly. “And really. A card? You hate writing about anything that isn’t rocks, and you’re confessing your affections with a card?”

“You see! This is why I seek your advice!” Angelo dropped to one knee, reaching up to Caroline with a pleading expression. “Have pity on me, oh wise sage!”

He could hear Quanyii giggling, though he couldn’t tell if it was at him or at Caroline’s expression that was frozen somewhere between disgust and confusion.

“Uh.” There was a cough from behind him, and Angelo froze before turning very slowly to see Marc and Dampierre watching the whole thing. “Am I…interrupting something?”

“No! No, interrupting nothing at all.” Angelo scrambled to his feet.

“Oh, cool.” Marc looked almost relieved, tipping his chair back and spinning around. “Tal’s got the car ready, so if you’ve got your wallet we can go.”

“I shall be there momentarily!” Angelo gave him a big thumbs up, watching as he rolled away before turning back to Caroline.

Her face was set in the blank expression she used for giggling ten-year-olds. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with this one, Angelo. But don’t worry!” She leaned forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you will handle this with your usual level of competence.”

“And if all else fails, surprise kisses work well,” Quanyii offered, grinning deviously.

“No, no they don’t. Do not do that. Just…” Caroline sighed. “Be yourself. You tend to do better with Marc than the rest of us who aren’t related to him, so I trust you’ll be able to handle yourself.”

“My thanks.”

* * *

“Oh, c’mon, just a _little_ —”

“No! That stuff gets _everywhere_ —”

“You say that like you didn’t look faaaabulous with it.” Marc waved the tube of bright, glittery lip gloss at Talfryn enticingly. “Look, next week’s dress-up dinner is Fantasy Night—”

“If I wanted to be covered in glitter I’d go within five feet of the arts and crafts shed. _No_.” Tal grabbed the nice chapstick he had _actually_ followed Marc to the makeup aisle for and went to go find some chips.

“Coward!” Marc called after him.

Tal didn’t turn around to answer that because they were in the middle of Wal-mart and that didn’t feel like the kind of thing he should do.

He found Angelo in front of the chips, completely by accident, and wondered if he should maybe go get something else and come back. It wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ Angelo, it was just…strange sometimes. He and Marc had just been hired this year, and a lot of the other counselors who had been here for longer tended to forget that actually, Tal and Marc were _older_ than most of them.

Also, Tal was pretty sure Angelo liked Marc more than him, especially once Tal had made it clear he knew how to talk to kids and wasn’t looking for a mentor.

Before he could actually move away, though, Angelo looked up at him and beamed. “Ah! Talfryn! I owe you a boon for your driving. Tell me, what chips do you prefer?”

“Uh…salt and vinegar, I guess?”

“An unusual but excellent taste!” Angelo grabbed a bag off the shelf. “I must thank you again for your service. I know that your brother invited me along, and that I have…” He trailed off, clearly looking for something to say next.

“Been acting really weird around me and Marc for the last couple of weeks?” Tal offered.

“Ah. I did not realize it was…noticeable.”

“It probably wouldn’t be if Marc wasn’t also being weird about it.” And that was saying something—Marc was weird about things as a matter of habit.

“He is?” Angelo looked very happy about that. Tal decided that if they were both being weird about it, he was going to go get Oreos and avoid having this conversation with either of them.

“Yeah, maybe you should talk to him about it,” he said, and then made tracks.

Tal moved fast enough that he had, in fact, managed to get his Oreos by the time Marc and Angelo got kicked out because Angelo got so excited about something he knocked over a temporary shelf.

* * *

Before this summer, Damien would have said that he knew every single square foot of camp. He would also have said that Arum was a terrible, annoying person who had never had fun in his life.

And then this summer happened, and now he was in the middle of a clearing surrounded by old trees trailing ivy, his head on Arum’s lap. On the other side of the fire, Rilla was tuning her guitar, humming to herself as she tested a few chords. There were candles all around the clearing, in small glass lanterns that had been acquired for a program and never used. Arum and Rilla had apparently spirited them all here when Damien wasn’t paying attention. That was fine, because Damien had been hiding sodas and snacks all week and stopped to grab them when he went looking, so now the three of them were cozy and set for the night. 

Director Helicoid didn’t approve of relationships among the staff, much to their collective annoyance and general disregard. Rilla wasn’t quite within his purview, but Damien and Arum were restricted to gestures of affection out of sight and out of mind. Loving tucked away in secret, like a treasure buried underground…

Damien was distracted from his tired reverie by Arum tugging gently on his hair. “You’re muttering, Honeysuckle. Penny for your thoughts?” The guitar sounds stopped—Rilla was listening too.

“Oh, just…” Damien let out a long sigh, buying time to think of something to actually say. “Thinking about this fall, I suppose. What we’re going to do when we don’t have this anymore.”

There was a quiet tapping, Rilla’s fingers drumming on her guitar. “We’ll figure it out as we go, I guess.”

“Nothing lasts forever,” Arum pointed out. He chuckled, that strange laugh that sounded like rattling. “And there is the fact that once the summer is over, we won’t have to sneak around like this anymore.”

“We can go places with _real food_ ,” Rilla groaned, strumming a chord for emphasis. “Or just somewhere with no mosquitos.”

As if her words had summoned it, Damien felt a bite on his shin and hurried to slap at it. “Yes, that will be a positive thing.”

“Mmm.” Arum leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, so quickly Damien wasn’t expecting it and was reduced to blushing silence. “We know you worry. The summer isn’t over yet. Don’t worry yourself away from a good here and now.”


End file.
